Archive for June, 2010

I recently found myself wandering into Crescat Boulevard clad in raggedy jeans, an old tshirt and rubber slippers. I hadn’t even shaved over the weekend. Now most of the time, I try not to take heed of what people think, as long as my mind is appeased. But unfortunately for me, my mind still feels a little out of place walking into an establishment looking like a rabid homeless person. Especially if the establishment in question is one which sells you jeans for the price of your old cellphone. When they’re on sale.

Naturally I was a little put-off by the twelve year olds looking at me like I’d just eaten chewing gum off the floor. I mutter a “podi ghothaya” under my breath and walk on.

It’s times like these when I find myself in a very contemplative mood. Times like these and times of complete bliss and harmony; for example when in the bus and a particularly good track comes on, or when you sneakily handcuff the neighbor’s ankles to the kitchen sink and shout “HA HA where’s your liberation now, HEATHEN?” at her. Soothing.

I contemplate many things. The most recent was me imagining painting the mall’s corridors red with the rage of hipsters when I wear a tshirt that is actually faded instead of pre-faded into their skinny-jean clad turf. Another was when I was mulling over shooting a BB gun at the bunch of old women who looked at me disdainfully like they were the stepford wives.

Yet another thing I always wonder about is why people keep searching for the term “ramzi rahman gay”. Further, it baffles me why it always leads them to my blog. Apparent;y it’s due to some comment left on an old post, but is there nothing on the internet documenting this man’s sexuality? Whoever he is, he’s likely got many males interested. Or at least many females disappointed.

Hello, I am winamp.exe. You might know me as your friendly neighborhood media player. Some of you might also know me as that son-of-a-bitch program which just ruined everyone’s hard night’s work with a single stroke of vileness bringing down an entire computer. One moment you’re listening to “Bombay Awakes”, happily typing away into Illustrator and the next you’re swearing at your monitor wondering why your mouse cursor refuses to move.

Eventually you will learn that I have in fact taken charge of things, and that the so-called ‘hood of your PC is now my female-canine-in-waiting. I couldn’t just sit there at the top of your screen and let you finish that assignment could I? It is in my blood to rain down damning bolts of thunder as devastating as rabid winged rhinos with chainsaws for horns tearing through a kindergarten. Imagine that I am the rhino, and your peace of mind is a bunch of kids hunched in the corner. Of course I cannot just crash, I have to drag everyone else along with me.

Even the might of windows 7 cannot stop me from going down on your system like a cheap russian hooker. I am just as lousy, but for free. I am kind like that, the only reward I ask is seeing your face frozen, a perfect replica of those masks they give the devils in the kandy perahara.

As the more astute of my readers, or pretty much anyone aware of the concept of time passing might have noticed, my “keep the blog active” plan was out of action for the past week. Fortunately this wasn’t due to people sending me threatening emails to cease and desist, but because the last week was as hectic as my stomach after going through a kottu from the shop across the street. Trust me, that place is not for the faint-of-intestine.

So anyway, last week was an eventful week. I shaved my beard, if you hadn’t heard. It was getting to be a pain. The first thing to happen after I shaved it off was me getting ripped off by a bus conductor. Clearer proof of its badassery I cannot imagine. But the price was too great. I assume that at one point the thing would have grown so much that it muffles my speech and made me sound like that slimy dude in Beowulf who looks like a plus sized Gollum and sounds like he’s gurgling cats.

That staying up late doing nothing in particular, sitting in front of a PC will mess with my brain. It’s times like these that I start thinking how much more interesting life would be with a bunch of friends who actually make use of the only evenings when I’m free. As it is, I sit at home, staring at wordpress.

It’s times like these that I fear I’ll turn into one of those creepy old dudes who live in their parent’s basement, with so much porn on their PC’s they get pop-ups when browsing their hard drives.

*shudder*

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So anyway, that is the beginning of a post I wrote last last Saturday night. As you can see, there clearly was no fever.

There was much corniness, though.

So I sit here, in front of wordpress again, while the morning is so young that it’s still okay for it to run around the supermarket yelling and biting people’s ankles. Life needs excitement! And my life craves it like a cat falling into a well craves a yacht.

It is mere cause and effect, I guess. The Sinhalaya trips have become less frequent, and I have started working. Hence all this pent up energy lies about doing nothing, and crashing on your couch and not paying the rent. To effectively combat this, one must counter the onslaught of boredom. You don’t have to be honest about it or anything. Just like how people turn into vegetarians not because they love animals, but because they just hate bloody plants.

I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching about the beard lately. And by soul-searching I mean being pissed off when it feels like any surface I rest my chin on is made of grated plastic. It’s infuriating. The thing actually retains water. Whenever I wash my face I feel like I’ve hung a little weight on my jaw.

It’s getting to be almost as annoying as those pants which have buttons in place of a zipper, like some kind of infernal puzzle game you have to play when you’re rushing to get your business done. I’ll bet a woman designed those.

But above all, it’s the feeling all this fuzz leaves on my face. Now I know what a mountain feels like. Or pretty much any wooded area. Except this feels like it moves. It feels strangely like a flurry of ants walking about my mouth, dragging their feet as they go. Maybe it’s some Mecca-like place for ants.

It makes me feel like a goat. I may stroke the thing lovingly every now and then but occasionally it makes me want to eat election posters stuck on walls.

I am not a happy man… Boy, these days. I have to go to sleep at a time when the night is so young that if it were never hugged by it’s father, would develop multiple personalities to cope with it. Just so I can wake up in time for work. Add to this the fact that my mom now expects me to pay for stuff. I’m still an infant in the life-cycle of working. I am still supposed to be allowed to wantonly spend on anything I want while maintaining a savings account the same way a terrorist organization maintains a brand image.

But above all, is football. I don’t dislike soccer per se, just this world cup. Let me provide my reasons in easy to comprehend list form, in case any fans are watching and need help.

Vuvuzelas.

Clogging up twitter.

People talking about “#bra”‘s and “#prk”‘s all over the place.

Vuvuzelas.

You see, soccer is fine. It may be a little girly, but that’s ok. There’s nothing wrong with being born female anymore so you’re all excused. It’s just this whole “worldcup fever” thing that gets to me. Togetherness, one planet, waving flag. Bah, it’s a sport, not valentine’s day.